“Maybe . . .” His eyes flick over to meet mine. “I did our washing.”
“You just got here today,” I reply.
“I had things to wash.”
“Did you make my bed?”
He raises his eyebrow. “Possibly.”
I roll my lips.
“In my defense, I had a wank in your bed to your scent on the sheets. I made the bed out of gratitude in a postorgasmic glow.”
I burst out laughing, and he laughs too. Our eyes linger on each other’s, and my heart melts. He leans over and kisses me. “I missed you, Grumps.”
“Not as much as I missed you.”
He drops the bag and takes me into his arms, and we kiss, slow and tender, right here in the street in the middle of everyone.
“You’re very kissy today.” I smile up at him.
“I am, aren’t I?” He frowns. “I’ll have to work on that.”
He takes my hand again, and we begin to walk. “Where are we staying?” I ask.
“I don’t know, some hotel.”
“Please tell me it has a bath.”
“You like baths?”
“I love baths and haven’t had one for three months. It’s the one thing I hate about the hostels.”
He winces. “But would you really want to get into a bath at the hostel with all the depraved dirty fuckers who stay there?”
“Well, my roommate wanks in my bed while I’m at work, so . . .” I shrug, and he laughs out loud.
Oh, this feels so good . . . and normal, laughing and being ourselves. I was worried that it was going to change between us. I’m so relieved that so far it hasn’t.
“We’re going out for dinner tonight.” He smiles. “To celebrate.”
“Okay.”
Excitement bubbles in my stomach.
“What did you do when you were away?” I ask.
“Stuff.”
I glance over. “Stuff?”
“Boring stuff. What do you want to eat tonight?”
He’s changing the subject. “Something spicy.”
“Spicy?” He frowns. “I wouldn’t advise that.”
“Why not?”
“We are sharing a bathroom.”
I giggle. “Good point.”
He glances down at the maps on his phone. “Actually, the hotel is too far from here. We’ll catch an Uber.”
“Okay.” He punches in our coordinates. “We’ll wait here.” He pulls me onto the curb and pushes me up against the wall.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. People are beginning to look at us.
“Kissing my girl on the street. What does it look like?” His lips take mine.
His girl.
I smile against his lips; the night is already a raging success.
Twenty minutes later the Uber pulls up in front of the fanciest hotel I’ve ever seen, and I peer out the window. “Are you sure this is it?”
“Uh-huh.” He climbs out of the cab and helps me out.
“It looks too fancy,” I whisper as doormen come running to help us.